My grandfather, Edgar “Eddy” Horace passed away in early February. This was a man who inspired me my whole life and encouraged me to pursue whatever whims I was passionate about. When I wanted to be an astronaut, he sent me to space camp. When I wanted to be a soccer player, he got me my first pair of cleats. So years later, when I wanted to get into aerospace engineering, there was no question about it; he was there to help. He knew I’d eventually find my way, and that the best thing to do was to encourage me to try - and to push myself further.
I’ve found great success in my work, and I’ve always been grateful to Eddy for his ceaseless enthusiasm. So when I heard about his suddenly deteriorating health, I dropped everything. When you get to your 80’s, things can change at the drop of a hat. There is nothing more terrifying than the human condition.
But the story I’m about to tell you comes close.
I took care of Eddy those last few weeks of his life. We wanted him to be able to spend that time at home with friends and family, and we did whatever we could to make that happen.
But Eddy had plans. He didn’t want to spend time at home; he wanted to travel one last time. He had this strange idea to go to this little town in South Dakota. I couldn’t figure out why, but he was determined. He got this strange shimmer in his eyes whenever he spoke about it.
“I gotta go,” he said. “Please, I just gotta go.”
It was a small town northeast of Rapid City. You could barely see it on a map. You could see the houses, but there’s no name to it.
That’s how I got to know about Locust, South Dakota.
Eddy died two weeks ahead of his planned trip to Locust. His passing was sudden, devastating, and confusing. I’d never heard him talk of that place before, and there was no real explanation as to why he wanted to go there. So I decided, as a final show of gratitude, to spread his ashes there.
I made a reservation at a motel and drove out there over the weekend. There was no information about the motel I was staying at, what the buildings in the town were used for, or who lived there. It was a whole town of question marks. Not because of anything being hidden, but because no one cared to look closer. This was the kind of town that was just a bunch of houses by the side of the road. The kind of place you pass by, only ever asking yourself who would live in a place like that to begin with.
But when the time came, I carefully packed Eddy’s bronze urn and took to the road; not knowing what to expect.
I’d never been to South Dakota before. On my first day driving through Rapid City, there was this violent snowfall that almost threw me off the road. Going up to Locust was about as flat a terrain as it gets; these endless fields of snow, stretching for miles. Not that you could see that far, because of the weather, but still.
That first night in Locust wasn’t anything special. I arrived pretty late, got myself a gas station hot dog from across the street, and crashed in my room. The owner seemed nice enough; a soft- spoken elderly woman called Dottie who was eager to make sure I had everything I needed for my stay.
I crawled into bed, watched some TV, and fell asleep. I left Eddy’s urn out; he loved watching late-night television. I figured he’d appreciate me leaving it on.
The weather had cleared up by morning. The sun reflecting off the fresh snow was blinding, and there was this awkward humidity in the air. It was still cold, but wearing a jacket made me feel sticky; like a warm ham in a plastic bag. Awful. I brought my backpack, taking Eddy along. I was gonna check out the town, ask a few questions, and try to figure out why my grandpa wanted to go here so badly.
Dottie, the owner, was up early. She asked me all about my plans, if I’d slept alright, if the water pressure in the shower was okay. I got the impression that she didn’t see a lot of new people.
“I’m actually here for my grandpa,” I said.
Before I got the chance to elaborate, Dottie lit up like a candle. Her smile growing wide, and a laugh bubbling up.
“How exciting!” she said. “Wait, don’t tell me – you’re Donnie’s boy, right? Or is it… Hector?”
“No, I, uh… sorry, I wasn’t clear. My grandpa never made it here.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” she sighed. “I’m sure he would’ve loved our little town.”
“It’s strange,” I said. “I don’t think he’s ever been here. Why’d he be so eager to visit?”
“None of us have been to Heaven neither,” she smiled. “But we can still wish to see it.”
She laughed it off and took me to a small dining room. Fresh bacon, eggs, and coffee. A little slice of Heaven, right there.
Dottie had a few other guests that morning. An old couple, and a woman in a wheelchair. Just people from the neighborhood, it seemed. The woman in the wheelchair had an oxygen tank and a white mask covering half her face, which she carefully removed to put tiny pieces of pancake in her mouth. She winced with every bite. I first mistook her for an older woman, but on closer inspection, she was close to my age. I was seated straight across from her, at an opposite table.
Dottie sat down with me halfway through my breakfast, under the guise of offering me a refill for my coffee.
“I’m so sorry about your grandfather,” she said. “Was it sudden?”
“It was his time,” I nodded. “We just thought he had a little more left.”
“Terrible,” Dottie sighed, shaking her head. “But the Lord knows when our time is due.”
“Yeah, well… Eddy wasn’t really a, uh… good friend of the church.”
“Nonsense. We’re all friends here.”
As she left the table, I found myself staring into the eyes of the woman at the opposite table. A thin grey membrane covered her eyes, as the machine pumped air into her lungs. But there, deep inside her dying orbs, was a strange shimmer. Something I recognized from the many hours I’d spent with my grandfather.
She knew something. She’d seen something.
Something.
I went back up to my room to get my things. I got Eddy’s urn, put it in my backpack, and double-checked my e-mail. I still had a life to attend to, even if I’d taken some time off for Eddy’s sake. There were meetings being planned, zoom calls to attend. Never-ending spreadsheets.
I was in a different headspace, thinking about the practicalities. So when I came face to face with the elderly couple I’d seen downstairs, my mind sort of blanked. They were standing literally outside my door, about to knock.
They seemed just as surprised as I was.
“Oh, uh… hi,” the old man said. “Haven’t seen you around before.”
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“We heard you talking to, uh, Dottie,” the man continued. “About your grandfather.”
“Alright. Yeah, he passed, recently.”
The two of them nodded and looked at one another.
“There’s someone you ought to talk to.”
Not knowing what to expect, I agreed to come along. They seemed harmless enough, and I didn’t know where to begin with this town. Not that there was much to see.
We took a long walk to the east side of the town, past the gas station and supermarket. I could see the town church in the distance, blending into the white of the snow. The cemetery was on the other side of a hill. There were a few houses lining this side of town, and at the far end of the road was a mansion made of eggshell white brick. There was a red mailbox with the name ‘Saffron’ printed in large letters.
Walking up to the door, an older man stepped out to greet us. He looked to be in his early 70’s. He had a full head of long hair, a bright white and fully starched shirt, and a prominent golden cross necklace. The couple introduced me to him.
“This is Joel,” they said. “I’m sure he can straighten things out.”
I shook his hand, and we looked at one another for a few seconds in complete silence. Finally, I gave him my name.
“I’m so thankful for you to be here,” he smiled. “I’m sure you have many questions.”
Joel invited me into his home. The couple asked me to have a ‘blessed day’ and disappeared into the bright winter sun. Joel offered me a glass of water and sat me down by the kitchen table. He had a spotless house, except for some dead bugs in the windowsill. But everything had this slight smell of either detergent or chemical lemon. There was also a slight reverb to everything I did and said.
I showed Joel my grandfather’s urn and explained what’d happened. I told him about this mysterious obsession with the town, and this absolute determination to see it before his passing. Joel just looked at me, nodding. He was very easy to talk to, and he was eager to ask follow-up questions.
Finally, he took the urn, gently, and looked at it.
“I was in a similar predicament,” he said. “But the good Lord decided to keep me around for a few more years. Praise be.”
“So what was it that drove you here?” I asked. “Why this place?”
Joel thought about it as he carefully put the urn down. He cleaned it with a napkin.
“I raised a lot of horses back on my ranch in Minnesota,” he said. “Beautiful place. Had these fields of sunflowers with the same color as the sky. Looking out on hazy mornings as the sun rose, you might think you’re looking into Heaven.”
“But with horses grazing on the clouds,” I smiled.
Joel grinned. He patted me on the shoulder, nodding enthusiastically.
“I like that! Yes, like… like horses grazing on the clouds above. What a glorious view.”
He turned in his seat, looking over at the urn, and lowered his voice. Slowly, his smile faded.
“But horses have this… amazing ability,” he said. “They know when their time is over. They know when it is time for them to leave us behind and begin their journey to the pale beyond. They leave the comfort of their friends and family, walk into the field, and die – facing the sun as they fade.”
“I never knew that.”
“You won’t read about that on your phone. Gotta talk to a rancher to know these things,” Joel smiled, tapping the side of his temple. “But they know. And so many other animals do to. They don’t contemplate what has been, or what will be – they just know what must be done, and they do it.”
Joel got up and showed me around. He had this spacious living room with a large cross covering an entire section of the wall. It looked hand-carved, as from a single piece of wood.
“But people are blessed with the gift of foresight. A gift to… to perceive things that haven’t been. To remember things that… that happened not to us, but to our forefathers. We imagine. We empathize. And when our time comes, we are so conflicted with what has been, and what will be, that we don’t look to what currently is.”
“Isn’t that, uh… mindfulness? That idea of-“
“Yes!” Joel interrupted. “Of perceiving and living in the now. To so many of us, that just cannot be. Instead, we are filled with this terrible… dread. This awful, hysterical fear of not knowing.”
Joel took a step towards me, looking at Eddy’s urn.
“But passing away is as easy as breathing. And I choose to believe in a world where we do not need to fear what comes naturally. Why should we fear dying anymore than we fear being born, or falling in love?”
Joel carefully took Eddy’s urn from me, placing it on a coffee table in front of the large cross. He looked up.
“Sometimes people find that peace within themselves. They find that moment where they know their time is coming. And those people, much like my horses, find themselves drawn. Away from friends and family, to a place where they’re supposed to be. And that place is here. That is it, right here.”
“This is… the place. This is where people go to die.”
“Not all people, mind you,” smiled Joel. “But yes. Many are drawn here. And when their time comes, this is where they choose to leave the world behind.”
Joel looked up at the cross, his eyes shimmering.
“Admiring the rising sun, grazing on a cloud of their own. Ready to take their place among God’s little wheat.”
I spent the afternoon with Joel, listening to his ideas, and his story. Turns out he had a condition where his brain could suffer a sudden aneurysm. He lived, as he described it, on a constant balance of life and death; where he could drop dead at any second. And in that state of living, everything in the world pulled him to this place and time; Locust, South Dakota.
He showed me a few articles about the town. The earliest mentions of it were from the 1910’s, when they built the church. The cemetery was built on top of a drained lake. There were little articles mentioning the town in passing, but it was just fluff pieces. Anniversaries, weddings, church events. The first real headline came in the 60’s, during the cult craze, but it sort of faded over time. People were looking closely at all off-the-map gatherings, but most agreed that the town of Locust were just peculiar; not heretical.
But there was this one picture that I couldn’t get out of my mind. This article from the 70’s, where I could see dozens of people standing in a field, raising their arms to the sky in unison. They looked like scarecrows.
Records speak of about 10 to 30 people travelling to Locust every year or so, just to pass away. Most come from surrounding counties, but a few came all the way from Canada, or northern Mexico. Joel told me about this one man who travelled all the way from Germany, just to drop dead the moment he stepped inside the city limits.
Later that day, we wandered back to the motel. Joel offered to treat me to one of Dottie’s home-cooked meals. On the way there, I asked him a question that seemed obvious in hindsight.
“So why is this town called Locust?”
“Some consider it a… misheard Lakotan word. Ocoze, meaning ‘warm’. I think it’s a… bit more complicated.”
“Then… what do you think?”
Joel let the words sink in, as he looked up at the sky. The sun had already set, and the stars were coming out.
“He spoke, and locusts came. Young locusts without number,” said Joel. “I love that verse. It reminds me that it is the word of God that brings the locust. But in order for them to be brought, one has to listen. To hear the word of God, the locust had to hear it spoken. But the locust can’t listen.”
“I’m sorry, but… that hardly makes any sense.”
“Don’t you see?” Joel smiled. “We are the locust. How else could we hear the word? How else could we be brought?”
“That’s… an interpretation.”
“I believe it to be a synonym of sorts. A word meaning a sin, or sinful person. And that this, the town of Locust, is the place where one leaves their sin behind as we move beyond.”
Sitting down to eat with Joel and Dottie, I got the impression that this man was loved all throughout the town. He was well-spoken, generous, and intensely friendly. The only one who didn’t seem to warm up to his presence was the woman in the wheelchair, with the oxygen tank, who seemed to shy away from everyone. I could see that twinkle in her eye, still. Maybe that’s the look you get when you know your time is up.
I spent the rest of the day in the company of Joel and Dottie. We had a long talk about the town’s history and the various people who’d passed through over the years. Apparently, most people who died there were cremated, as the nearby graveyard had been full for years. So seeing that I’d brought Eddy in an urn was fitting, somehow. Joel had already bought an urn for himself. He had no living relatives to care for his remains, so he didn’t want to inconvenience anyone with having to pay for one.
But at the end of the evening, as I walked under the starry sky with Joel and contemplated things that would come to be, I felt something. A little tug in my chest. This tiny strand, leading directly from my heart to the fields of Locust.
I was feeling it. That distant pull.
Was I, too, about to die?
What was supposed to be a weekend trip ended up being an entire week. I took time off to just get in touch with myself. I couldn’t bring myself to say goodbye to Eddy yet; I’d do that on my last day. Instead, I spent my time getting to know the people of the town. Garland and Hanna, the elderly couple who’d introduced me to Joel. An older woman named Margaret, who idolized her late husband to a degree where she kept a shrine. There was Masud, who’d come all the way from Atlanta after he got his lung cancer diagnosis.
There were about a dozen others that I noticed in passing, only getting to know them by name. But most of my days, I spent listening to Joel. While I didn’t care much for his impromptu sermons, I could appreciate his positive tone. It was comforting, in a way. Knowing something benevolent wanted me to be here at such a trying time.
But the woman in the wheelchair never warmed up to me, or Joel. I learned that her name was Erin, and that she had about a dozen chronic health issues. She was one of few locals who’d been born and raised in Locust, as if she was never meant to leave. From all the people I’d talked to, no one had anything good to say about her. At best, they ignored her.
“Strange girl,” Dottie said once. “She has wanted to leave this town for years, but her body couldn’t take it. So she just sits and waits. Out of all people, one would think she would want to be here.”
One morning, as Dottie had gone to get more bacon, I found myself alone with Erin in the dining room. As she removed her mask to place a piece of pancake in her mouth, I moved over to her table. She barely noticed. Once she did, she coughed. This awful, wheezing rattle. I introduced myself, and asked if she wanted any help.
“No,” she wheezed. “I’m fine.”
“I heard you’re not quite the fan of this town as most others,” I said. “Is that right?”
“Right,” she said, steeling herself for another shot at her pancake. “Fuck this town.”
“Seems alright to me,” I shrugged. “What’s so bad about it?”
She gave me this long look, as if trying to figure out if I’d trained to be this dumb, or if I was a natural talent. Finally, she shook her head.
“God doesn’t live in a fucking field,” she said. “Whatever the fuck these people are praying to, it ain’t divine.”
She had a point. Most people praised the town as some sort of holy ground; that it was special. That it was this magical place where people were supposed to be at the end of their life. That it was something beautiful and spiritual. But for people like Erin, who just wanted to live, it was a cruel taunt. When your entire life revolves around your death, you start to curse being born.
And the more I thought about it, the more that knot in my chest tightened. It didn’t feel like a calling anymore, it felt like a trap. Like a spider pulling me in, rather than a guiding light leading the way. I empathized with Erin. If that was how she felt, all the time, there was no wonder she resented that town.
I decided to cut my extended visit short.
I checked out the next morning, a few days ahead of what I’d paid for. Dottie didn’t understand, and was eager to clear up whatever problem I’d encountered. I tried explaining that my time there was over, and that I had to return to my own life. Dottie seemed crushed, as if she couldn’t understand why anyone would want to leave. This was, after all, the place where we all would end up eventually. Why leave? Why not just get comfortable?
Still, I got in my car. Dottie protested as I backed out of the driveway and broke the speed limit on my way out. I could imagine Erin smiling for the first time in years, knowing I’d left town because of her.
But that tug in my chest grew stronger. Insistent. My pulse rose, as my body was trying to figure out why I was going the wrong way. Like diving deeper when I needed to come up for air. I kept coming back to the same thought, over and over – if this was the end station, why leave? Why not just stay, and face my maker?
To shed my sin, my locust, and rest pure in this perfect little town?
I had to pull over. My pulse was going crazy, and I clutched my chest. It ached, sending red strands of pain pulsing through my arms. I closed my eyes to keep the tears in.
Then, I got a text. It was from Dottie.
Apparently, I’d forgotten my grandfather’s ashes.
I came rolling back to the motel like a shamed dog. There was a whole bunch of people waiting for me in the parking lot. Joel was there, holding Eddy’s bronze urn. They all looked at me with nothing but joy on their faces, like a lamb returning to the herd. They wanted me here. They wanted me to belong. And damn it all, there was an intense relief being back.
I parked and got out. Joel placed the urn on the roof of my car and wrapped me up in a big hug. The others awed and ooed.
“We’re gonna miss you,” Joel said. “Are you sure you have to leave?”
“I have to do what I came here for,” I said. “Eddy wanted to be here, not me.”
“Then I suppose we ought to get to church,” smiled Joel. “What better place to lay to rest?”
“Eddy wasn’t a big church guy.”
“Then maybe the hill overlooking the graveyard?” added Dottie. “It’s beautiful up there.”
I thought about it. It wasn’t quite the picture I imagined in my head when thinking about Eddy, but if that was what he wanted, that’s what he’d get.
“It is never too late,” said Joel. “Not for him, not for you. If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away, and look, new things have come.”
“Corinthians,” added Garland. “Praise be.”
We made our way through town, picking up more people as we went along. It was another beautiful, sunny day. The snow had started to melt in places, making the slush sink into my shoes. Some of those coming along had started singing psalms. Joel, on the other hand, seemed only to want to help.
“Excuse them,” he whispered. “They’re just eager to see someone joining our congregation.”
“I’m not joining you,” I said.
“I know,” nodded Joel. “But he is.”
He tapped the side of Eddy’s urn, and I got this sinking feeling. Like I was doing something terrible. I couldn’t help but to think of what Erin had said. God doesn’t live in a field; so what the hell were we about to do, and for whom?
We made our way off the road, continuing across a mushy field of melting snow. The others were singing, loudly and proudly, making the iron ball in my gullet grow. I felt sick. Still, part of me felt like this was the right place to be. But it felt right in an almost artificial sense, the same way a hot plate of French fries can be the best thing in the world. But you wouldn’t want that forever.
We finally got to the hill overlooking the church. There was this one big juniper tree casting some morning shade on us as I saw this vast clutter of tombstones below. For a town this small, the graveyard was enormous. The modest church was dwarfed next to it.
As I took hold of the urn, I wanted to let Eddy go and be done with it. I wanted to do this, and just leave, never looking back. I could live my life ignoring the pull to come back, that wouldn’t be a problem. At least I hoped so. But at that moment, I was struggling to keep calm.
Then, Joel grabbed me by the arm.
“Let’s take a closer look at the cemetery,” he said. “Maybe you’ll change your mind.”
“I don’t think I will, Joel.”
“A walk never hurt anyone,” he smiled. “You got legs. Use ‘em.”
He took me down to the cemetery as the others were singing to the full extent of their hearts. Even Dottie had joined in; her usually quiet voice booming with certainty.
Joel led me by the arm, weaving through the tombstones. Then, suddenly, he stopped. He raised a hand.
“Can you feel it?” he asked. “Can you feel this place?”
“I-I… I don’t know what to feel.”
I couldn’t tell him the truth. I felt ill, like my body was revolting. I cursed Erin for putting that thought in my head; that this place wasn’t what it was supposed to be. That there was something wrong, unholy, at play.
“I deserted you but for a brief moment, but I will take you back with great compassion,” sighed Joel. “We all have doubts, but this is the right decision. This is His place. This is His home.”
I closed my eyes. The song, reaching a fever-pitch. Joel strengthened his grip on my arm. I turned the lid on Eddy’s urn, and felt the world shift. Something waited to receive him; to welcome him.
“I will repay you for the years that the swarming locust ate,” spoke Joel. “The young locust, the destroying locust, and the devouring locust. My great army - that I sent against you!”
“Praise be!” added Masud. “Praise Him!”
And they praised. They cheered. They hollered and raised their hands to the sky. And as I turned the lid, there was this weight building in my chest; but I couldn’t stop myself. I needed this… this release.
I needed to move on.
Then I heard a strange noise. A beeping, of sorts. An insistant, machine-like beeping.
It was Erin, using the electronic honk of her wheelchair to grab my attention. She just sat there, staring at us. Not disappointed, not angry, just… terrified. And for that brief moment, there was no shimmer in her look. She was just a scared girl, hoping against hope that I’d get my mind in order.
All around me, I saw these people look at me with dilated eyes. Mouths open, like animals waiting to bite. Their arms shivering with excitement.
And under my feet, the ground moved.
It was subtle, but it was there. A bulge moving just beneath the earth, going from grave to grave. Something massive, eagerly awaiting an offering.
I looked up at Joel, still clutching my arm. And for the first time, I could see him clearly.
This was a sickly man. He wasn’t just old, he was ancient. I could see the outlines of his skull, the lining of the veins reaching the edge of his jaw muscles. He was more bone than man, his sunken eyes blackened with rot.
“Let go,” Joel wheezed. “Pass him on.”
Skeletal fingers wrapped around my arm, poking into my skin. Beige teeth struggling to hide behind razor-thin lips. The cross around his neck, nothing but gold-colored nickel.
How had I not seen this?
I turned the lid back on tight and shrugged him off.
There was an immediate gasp from the crowd.
“What are you doing?!” yelled Dottie.
Masud got angry. Hanna and Garland snarled like animals. Margaret wielded her walking stick like a sword. And behind them were the nameless crowd we’d gathered on our way there; most of which barely even looked human. Some were little more than bone and sinew, others were so pale their skin seemed translucent.
There were dozens of them.
Maybe hundreds.
Erin beeped again, snapping me to attention. Clutching the urn tight, I tried to push my way past Joel and burst into a sprint.
He tripped me, and I dropped the urn. Luckily, the lid held shut. Bronze doesn’t break easily.
I fell flat on my stomach as the ground beneath me moved. As the bulge buckled, a crack in the ground revealed something underneath. A pulsing, segmented body, white as snow, covered in a thick mucus. It bobbed back and forth like the abdomen of a wasp. It stank of dog’s breath. It must’ve been at least seven feet wide.
A hand gripped my ankle, dragging me back into the crowd. Joel stood ahead of me, lifting the urn.
“You’ve already committed him,” he said. “You can’t go back on your word! A bond has been made, and the price must be paid! Would you deny your loved one salvation?!”
I struggled. Hands grasped me, lifting my head – forcing me to watch. That iron ball in my stomach felt like an egg, ready to hatch. I wanted to beg for forgiveness, but not from whatever God they praised – but from grandpa. I shouldn’t have taken him here to begin with. I should’ve known better.
Joel held the urn high, speaking at the top of his lungs.
“But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come on you, and you will be My witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria!”
He leaned down to look me in the eye, to the cheer of the ghostly mass. Of those dying, and those that had long since passed. And I knew, in that moment, that this wouldn’t end with Eddy. This wouldn’t end until I was part of their congregation, dead in the ground. Joel smiled, knowing that I finally understood.
“And,” he grinned, “to the ends of the earth.”
There was a metallic clang.
I felt hands release me, as the congregation panicked.
There, right behind Joel, was Erin. She’d gotten up from her chair, hobbled all the way over, and whacked him over the head with her oxygen tank.
As Joel crumbled to the ground, they let me go. I managed to twist free, picking up Eddy’s urn as I got up. I hurried forward to Erin, leaning her against me. She barely weighed anything.
We looked at the crowd of devotees, staring us down with animal intent. They were horrified, angered, and beyond reasoning. There was no doubt that these people would tear us to pieces for our transgressions.
There were more of them now. So many more.
Joel lifted a finger towards us, cradling the back of his bleeding skull.
“You!” he cursed. “You’ve… you’ve denied Him! You’ve resented Him! You come bearing false witness! You-”
A rumble.
A low, deep, rumble.
Then, a buzz.
A locust.
It landed on my arm, then took off. But the entire congregation just stared, awestruck. The silence that crept up on us was so intense, I could hear the wind in the juniper tree on the hill. Then, I saw them.
Hundreds of locusts, creeping out of the ground. In the cracks where the thing beneath had broken through, they escaped. Joel had promised it a meal, but it had been denied. That wouldn’t stop it, however. It hungered. It would eat, no matter what, or whom.
The locusts first started crawling up Joel’s legs, then Dottie’s. On Masud, they started with his hands. Margaret had them chewing on her neck. Hanna and Garland held each other, keeping the song alive. I saw the first drops of blood in the snow.
There was a sudden jolt as the ground shifted. Joel’s foot sunk into the earth with a sickening crunch. He looked down, then back up at me; his bone-like face aching to smile.
“Joy!” he screamed. “Joy, to be chosen!”
Erin tapped my shoulder, reminding me to do what came most natural; to run.
The cemetery erupted. Thousands of locusts swarmed the air, tearing the congregation to pieces. Stripping them of their clothes, their skin, their hair. I could hear them choking as swarms of creatures forced themselves down their throats. But there were no screams; just songs and praises. Joyous laughter as they held one another, thanking whatever God may be. But in seconds, their songs were drowned with the pitter-patter of air-thin wings. And as we ran, despite being 30 feet away, I could still feel the ground shift. Erin kept smacking me on my arm, like trying to get a racehorse to go faster.
As I got Erin to her wheelchair, the entire cemetery was engulfed in this mixture of grey and brown, like a descending cloud. A filthy, buzzing cloud; tearing everything into base components. Stripping everyone of their identity and purpose.
All the while, Joel was laughing. His deathly smile never faded as he sunk into the earth. The greatest joy of his life; to be devoured by whatever God he praised. Chunk by chunk.
I got bitten twelve times in less than a minute. I didn’t even know locust could do that. Erin had them stuck in her hair, in her oxygen mask, everywhere. We tried to brush them off as I hurried down the hill, back to the motel.
By the time we got to my car, the swarm had already descended from the church. These things were everywhere. I could hear them smacking into the windows of the motel with a rhythmic tapping. There was no question about getting Erin out of here; she was coming with me. I dropped her in the passenger seat and started folding up her wheelchair. She smacked me again, accidentally brushing off a biting locust.
“Leave it!” she wheezed. “Let’s go!”
There was a dozen of them in the car with us, but we just had to go. I could hear them rattling in the air conditioning. For the second time that day, I backed out of the driveway, and broke the speed limit.
On my way out of town, I felt that tug in my heart. That thing in me telling me that I was misunderstanding everything. That I was letting myself down. That I was breaking a holy covenant, and that some things were not meant to be understood by people like me. That there was a reason that that the first things angels said, when revealing themselves to mortals, was to not be afraid.
My chest ached. A red pulse forced me to blink. Sweat stung my eyes.
Erin placed her hand on mine. All she had was half an oxygen tank, and a way out of town. That seemed more than enough.
“I’m scared too,” she said. “Keep going.”
So I did.
We were halfway to Rapid City when I slowed down, easing my cramped foot.
The locust had died. My mind was quiet. Eddy’s urn rested carefully on Erin’s lap. And as I looked over at her, I saw the grey membrane clear from her eyes.
She took off her oxygen mask, breathed free, and smiled.
This was some time ago. I don’t expect everyone to believe it. But if you look it up, Locust (SD) is still there. Maybe new people have moved in; others who’ve felt the call.
I found the perfect spot for Eddy. There’s this place not far from his childhood home where you can watch the fishermen bring in the catch of the day. All year long, you can smell fresh crab stew; Eddy’s favorite. I knew he’d love it there.
At first, I thought Erin was going to die. Turns out many of her problems weren’t as bad as we’d imagined. Sure, she had some muscle atrophy from spending years in that chair, but physical therapy would go a long way. Apparently, there’d never been anything wrong with her eyes, and her lung problems were inconclusive. The doctor figured it was some sort of perpetual allergic reaction, possibly to insect bites.
Away from that town, Erin looks to make an almost full recovery.
I don’t know what to make of all this. I think there are plenty of reasons for people to go to places and find comfort in their beliefs. I think there are good reasons for us to deal with what we are, and what we will become. Much like all the people of Locust, we find our comforts in knowing we belong in this world; even after we’re gone.
Thinking back on all of this, I think Joel was right about one thing. That leaving this life behind is nothing to be feared. That it is as natural as being born, or falling in love. That it is reasonable to have faith about a merciful and benevolent creation, whatever form that may take.
But I know that none of that benevolence and none of that mercy lived in the town of Locust, South Dakota.